Pebbles

Pebbles on the beach
unique in every way
random shapes,
wrought by waves
both salt and fresh.
cosy  in my hand,
choose any one, hold close.
From far away they come
millenia in their journeys,
here to rest awhile,
rough youth smoothed.
Dogs chasing in the foam.
Others stumble, take you home,
throw you on the rockery to
mix you with the quarry stones.

Do not despair
let me hold you this last time
kiss as did the waves
which formed you as no sculptor,
roll in my hand . . . .
thinking childhood games,
then lie in the bed of time,
dreaming your journey, once again,
across the seven seas.